How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 458

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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That’s not something you say based on looking at a drawing.

I had a gut feeling. Not just me, but Leo would have felt the same, and now even Ulrike would notice.

Eugene Lamour confirmed I was an artist without even properly looking at my sketchbook. I know when he made that judgment. Right before I handed over the sketchbook, when he stared at me intently, he had already reached his conclusion.

Just by flipping through the sketchbook, he would have guessed what level my skills were at, so he knows I’m not suitable as a student. And yet he’s saying he’ll teach me regardless of my skill level.

Leo is still looking at me. I clicked my tongue and turned my head away. I could somewhat guess why he was looking at me. I don’t want to think about that matter anymore.

After Eugene Lamour left, Ulrike said quietly.

“Doesn’t seem like he chose based on the drawings.”

“…”

“Lucas, you were his target from the beginning. He had business with you, but when he saw your drawing skills would warrant rejection, he changed his strategy and made up strange excuses about being an artist or whatever. That way he could stay with you.”

“…That might be the case.”

It was absurd to hear such harsh words said with a serious face, but it didn’t hurt since I had no regrets about my drawing. What’s important is that Ulrike’s words might be right. Perhaps. And more importantly, Ulrike is partially wrong about something. Eugene Lamour wasn’t mistaken. He only spoke the truth…

“Think about it. How can you tell if someone’s an artist just by looking at their face on the first meeting? What, clear eyes? No. Should they be cloudy? People who call themselves artists are a bit peculiar… Anyway, Lucas is completely far from that.”

“…”

I said nothing. I couldn’t.

I don’t know what Eugene Lamour’s definition of art is, but if an artist is someone who practices what the world narrowly calls arts and physical education, then I meet that criteria more than anyone. But he doesn’t know I was in the entertainment industry for 23 years. He doesn’t know that I starred in well over twenty works as a lead actor. That didn’t happen in this world. It’s not something Lucas Ascanien accomplished. It’s something I accomplished with my own name that no one in this world knows.

Yet Eugene Lamour speaks with confidence as if he knows my background.

He’s a human without Vitriol or magic power. A perfect non-mage, so he relied on his own insight.

‘…That doesn’t make sense.’

How is that possible? Abraham also discovered numerous facts with his natural insight, but if that was at the level of reluctant awe, now uneasiness was slowly rising. The fact that Eugene Lamour caught not Lucas Ascanien but me inside him gradually hardened my expression.

As Ulrike said, he might have said anything to hold onto me, but Eugene Lamour coincidentally chose the correct answer. In a situation where if there were 100 teachers, all 100 would say they couldn’t teach a student of this skill level, knowing his words would sound absurd.

I need to find out what he saw to make that judgment. I muttered while looking at the table’s pattern.

“What’s so special about art? If you’re breathing and living in this world, that’s art. Even dying is art.”

“Hahaha! Then I’m an artist too?!”

“Something like that.”

“Lucas, you’re pessimistic.”

“Why? Anyway, it was too hasty. Leo, did you mention I would also come to this meeting?”

“Of course. I said the heir of the Kleist family also wanted to meet.”

“…”

I nodded. Of course he had to mention who would attend.

I asked Leo’s servant to get more French newspapers and found all articles mentioning Eugene Lamour within the past 3 years. Since his name was continuously mentioned on the front page before and after each salon opening every year, it wasn’t difficult to find without using magic.

Ulrike, who was helping with the investigation beside me, gasped.

“Wow, one of this person’s paintings is worth a Parisian house… This one person is probably richer than our family. He’s incredibly popular.”

That’s why the royal family wants to see him. In short, he’s a master representing France. I carefully examined his paintings in the newspaper while reading the columns written beside them. His early painting style was academic, but as time passed and we moved to recent times, his works gradually began showing Fauvist atmosphere. As his painting style changed, he faced tremendous criticism and condemnation, but despite that, his artwork prices continued to soar. Various articles were published, from established critics’ evaluations—starting with criticism that they couldn’t understand what he was trying to convey and that his expression methods lacked dignity or depth, to personal attacks asking if he had already developed dementia at such a young age—but contrary to this, the dominant evaluation among emerging critics and the public was that he opened a new era in art. He really was an honorary member of foreign academies, and when he had an academic painting style, he painted murals for the British royal family and received a knighthood. As expected. Yes, come to think of it, he wouldn’t be a commoner. He earned his title later in life.

Ulrike, who took the painting I had seen and spread it out, admired it.

“Somehow… it really is magnificent. I want to hang it in my living room too.”

“Right.”

“He received many invitations from America too. But it says he hasn’t gone to America since the year before last.”

“Has he only accepted invitations from Britain and Germany since then?”

“Seems like it.”

Ulrike, who had been examining the newspaper, slammed it down on the table with a sound and looked back and forth between Leo and me as she asked.

“This person has already made enough money to last several lifetimes, so why is he doing various shady things? His honor is tremendous too. Isn’t he really plotting something in collusion with the French Imperial Family?”

“Hmm, he has tremendous wealth and honor, so what would he gain by joining hands with the French Imperial Family? He already has most things.”

“Well…”

Unable to think of a suitable reason, Ulrike made a serious face. As he searched through the articles on the table again, his face instantly turned pale as he pressed his temple. He clapped his hands as if he had realized everything.

“Look at this!”

[This year’s works by Eugene Lamour are scribbles of a terminal dementia patient]

[Burnel Geret]

—The fall of France’s representative academic painter

To put it bluntly, national painter Eugene Lamour is finished.

He has completely forgotten the academic painting style! Eugene Lamour’s work exhibited at this year’s salon is art only for visual novelty without emotion or meaning, forced art to occupy the position of a pioneer of artistic movements, garbage-like scribbles that can’t be called art in that sense. It would be better to have a dying old man draw on a napkin and submit it to the salon. If he wants to continue living as a painter, he should either return to being an elementary art school student, receive dementia treatment, or strive to return to his past prime. There’s something to be careful of here. He must not go back to the very distant past and exhibit scribbles that even kindergarteners could draw as works in the salon!

“This rudeness is the problem! Isn’t he trying to bury the critic?! Lucas, wouldn’t you want to eliminate these critics at least once?”

“Hmm.”

What are you suddenly doing? I was dumbfounded and pressed my lips while chuckling. But when I thought I’d heard these words somewhere before, I quickly lost the energy to laugh. I shook my head.

“Even with the imperial family backing him, that’s impossible. If it went too far, he could just quietly sue.”

“No, then they’d write articles saying he’s narrow-minded for suing. How can anyone say such harsh things to another person? I would have been angry if I heard such words.”

“Of course it’s rude—”

“So when the imperial family was looking for useful cards, he might have said he’d bury those people to shut them up. In exchange for listening to Terminus Yukairya’s demands. That’s why he came looking for you!”

“You’re angry about this matter on his behalf.”

I once again realize Ulrike’s high empathy ability. It was an enviable ability.

I didn’t want to think about this matter anymore either. It felt like I had returned not to the 19th century of this world, but to the 21st century of my world. I had to intentionally suppress the thoughts entering my head in a hazy manner. I was conscious of Leo’s gaze as I tried to persuade Ulrike in the most ordinary tone possible.

“Spewing blatant criticism without a shred of shame only reveals how simple and narrow-minded one’s own thoughts are. Wouldn’t someone who can’t control their own vulgarity being bound to academic painting style actually weaken the grounds for academic painting style to continue as the mainstream style, Luise? So Count Eugene Lamour would also know how worthless this criticism is.”

“…Yes, that would be right? But I think differently.”

Ulrike firmly refuted my words.

“Lucas. No matter how short-sighted critic Burnel Geret is, people reading the articles can’t think on such a high level. If someone says this, they think it’s like this, and if they say that, they think it’s like that. Why do you think article titles are becoming increasingly sensational? Because newspapers that drive someone to the edge sell better! They’ll think Eugene Lamour deserves to be criticized for having dementia because he was wrong to paint roughly first, and if they believe their criticism is justified, someone will definitely escalate it to bigger actions. Count Eugene Lamour would have received tons of mocking letters with this article clipped after it was published.”

“…”

“He definitely would have been furious. If it were me, I think I would have been desperate to find means to punish those people. I wouldn’t have been able to execute it, but Count Eugene Lamour…”

“How do you know Count Lamour would have been furious?”

“Huh?”

I waved my hand dismissively. Then I gestured at the newspaper and the air while organizing his opinions one by one.

“Alright, Luise. I understand your thoughts well. Count Lamour seems to be targeting me, and it’s also suspicious that a French master whom the French Imperial Family would notice is trying to approach Britain and Germany. Considering it, for someone this wealthy to join hands with someone for profit, that someone would have to be a huge institution like the imperial family or a major corporation. And Count Lamour happens to have an incentive to join hands with such a huge institution, and that incentive is articles like this.”

“Yes, that’s it. Would this be the only such article? There must have been tons after his painting style changed. Could you just sit still if you were in his position?”

Then Leo shook his head and said with a troubled face.

“I agree that Count Lamour’s words were strange somewhere, but the logic that he joined hands with Terminus Yukairya just to suppress people who say such things is a bit concerning, Luise.”

“Why? This might seem like nothing to outsiders like us, but for the person involved, it’s not something you can just step over like stepping on poop. You’d think differently after experiencing it directly.”

As I swallowed, I felt Leo looking at me, wondering what I had done. I lightly patted Ulrike’s shoulder and immediately stood up from my seat.

“Many people exist in the world, so it’s not impossible. But let’s think more about it. The words about being an artist or whatever might have been said without any particular intention.”

“Hmm…”

“We have class tomorrow morning too. If there’s something strange, we’ll notice it soon enough.”

* * *

That night I extracted and delivered divine power to supply the Bavarian government and hospital—for Atropos defense—and gathered again in the banquet hall the next morning. If it’s a banquet hall, they should hold banquets, but seeing an easel standing there boldly makes my heart feel heavy.

“Now~ we’re going to draw pictures again today~”

Ulrike, who had brightened up again after just one night, brushed off his hands and grinned. He carefully gathered energy in his pencil, tried drawing an animal head, and sighed.

“My hand isn’t loosening up. Now that I’m actually trying to learn drawing, I want to gather kids and play rugby.”

“…”

Leo is looking at him with an incredulous expression.

After about 30 minutes, Eugene Lamour entered the room. He bowed his head to greet us, then went straight to the main point without any small talk.

“It’s truly an honor once again. Let’s hear what kind of pictures His Highness the Prince and Count Kleist would like to draw. Before that.”

Eugene Lamour took out a bundle of papers from his bag and placed it loudly on the side table next to my easel. Scissors and glue came out of his bag in succession. I looked at the bundle of papers he had put down, narrowed my eyes, and asked carefully.

“…Are these photographs?”

“That’s right. Most are newspaper article photos, but there are also advertising illustrations and department store catalogs.”

“And so?”

“Cut them out and paste them on the canvas.”

I stared blankly at the bundle of photos and scissors, then slowly opened my mouth. Is this person telling me to do collage right now? Collage doesn’t exist in this world yet, but he wants to be this ahead of the times?

Eugene Lamour shrugged his shoulders seeing my expression.

“Do you truly want to learn brushwork and sketching? Drawing techniques?”

“…”

“You must have scenes you want to express in your head, Count. If you can’t draw, express them in other ways. Go out and dance, get on stage, sing—if humans themselves can think artistically, the field you choose is merely a medium. Why should you be bound to brushes and paints?”

There it is again. Words of the same caliber as the statements about being an artist or whatever. He had grasped that my skills were the worst. I answered quietly.

“Impressive words. I never thought I’d hear such things from a painter.”

“The reason we learn to draw is to extract the intangible world that won’t exist anywhere when I die from inside our heads. If our hands can’t keep up, we can’t implement what’s in our heads. In that sense, lack of technique is no different from being dead for an artist.”

“….”

He uses a direct way of speaking that, at first hearing, could easily offend many people—especially fellow artists in cases like this. I’ve been sensing this tendency since yesterday, so this must be this person’s characteristic. I stared at Eugene Lamour’s drowsy expression and nodded. Lamour said indifferently.

“But can you extract the world inside your head using only painting? Your Excellency has no interest in painting, so is there really a need to train your hand’s ability? Don’t waste time on boring things and expand your artistry to other fields.”

“No interest in painting—you’ve hit the nail on the head.”

“That’s how it seemed when I watched yesterday’s practice.”

“Haha. Still, I do think it’s a good opportunity.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. If you have something you want to express but don’t know what technique or materials to use, call me then.”

Lamour, still wearing an indifferent expression despite his words, knocked hard on the side table once and walked between Leo and Ulrike’s easels. I stared intently at his retreating figure.

From what I’ve observed so far, he’s indeed someone with a firmly established world of his own. This isn’t the time to call me an artist. I watched him for a while, then slowly took out photos to use for collage materials.

As far as I know, the class continues for four hours. When about three and a half hours had passed, Leo had already finished the sketch stage and was starting basic coloring. The oil smell from the oil paints was giving me a headache.

I had pasted all the newspaper photos onto the modeling paste I’d applied long ago and let harden completely, roughly colored it with red paint, then sat quietly. Whenever I finished conceptualizing each stage, I cut out other photos and pasted them anew. I caught Eugene Lamour passing by and said.

“I’m finished.”

“Really? Then go now. Or do one more.”

“What about… feedback?”

“Why should I do that?”

“….”

I nodded and asked.

“I understand. Could we talk for a moment?”

“Sure.”

I briefly led him out of the room and asked quietly.

“Count Lamour. What did you see yesterday that made you call me an artist? I don’t have that kind of skill.”

“Were you curious about that? I just said that because you have that kind of face.”

“…Really? How clear-cut.”

Count Lamour, still with a tired face, just raised the corners of his mouth slightly and nodded. Then he gestured toward the door. Since it was a question asking if he could go in, I told him to go ahead.

‘I should bring Narke.’

I don’t know where he went now. He said he’d stop by Trier Cathedral, but I haven’t seen him since this morning.

When I returned to the room, Ulrike was standing in front of my canvas. Leo was also standing in front of it, caught by Ulrike. Both friends simultaneously turned to look at me with bewildered faces. Ulrike carefully spoke to me.

“Count Ascanien.”

“Yes?”

“What… why… what is it? What?”

“Why?”

“Why did you arrange this so well?! What is this? You couldn’t paint until yesterday?!”

“….”

Saying I couldn’t paint so directly since yesterday…

As I just laughed in disbelief, Eugene Lamour, who had followed behind, said matter-of-factly.

“Manual dexterity and aesthetic sense are different matters.”

“Ah.”

Ulrike clapped her hands with an enlightened expression. This must be her habit. As I was thinking that, Ulrike cast a sound-blocking spell and grabbed my shoulder.

“Sell this to me, Lucas! I want to hang it in my room!”

“Go ahead. I’ll give it to you as a gift.”

“Oh, great! I’ll give you mine too when I finish painting everything next time. Actually, I was going to give what I’m painting now to Mother.”

Since Ulrike likes giving gifts to friends, it seems to have become a barter system. I thought that and answered.

“Alright.”

“What should I paint for you after finishing this?”

Nothing came to mind. From experience, when nothing comes to mind, there’s only one best answer.

“Paint me.”

“Great! I should ask to be taught portrait painting~”

The class ended just like that. There wasn’t much time left anyway, and everyone seemed tired and thought this was enough. I promised to meet Eugene Lamour again tomorrow and parted ways.

When all the outsiders and servants left the room, Leo, who had been admiring my painting, said quietly.

“Could you make one for me too?”

“My memory is a bit questionable—weren’t you using a sound-blocking spell?”

“You’re being sarcastic. I guess what I expected was right? Luise asked for a painting too.”

I nodded. Leo seemed to think he hadn’t heard an answer to the main point, so he asked once more carefully.

“Will you make one?”

“If you give me the painting you’re working on now, I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll give it.”

He answered immediately. This created a scene where everyone was exchanging paintings for paintings. At that moment, I casually said what suddenly came to mind.

“Guys. Let’s name our small group the Painting Barter Meeting.”

“Terrible naming.”

“….”

Leo’s direct way of speaking sometimes leaves me speechless. I looked at him with eyes asking what I was supposed to do. The convention is to accept rebuttals as improvement suggestions, but this guy just has a sharp tongue.

However, when the small group topic she had first suggested came up, Ulrike seemed deeply moved, completely furrowing her eyebrows before answering in a loud voice.

“I like it!”

* * *

Before the terrible naming could pass, Leo stopped us and said we should think about it a bit more.

And I briefly did some overdue work as Nicolaus, then went down to the banquet hall again when it was time for my appointment with the basic art teacher before dinner. I’m now preparing for sketching again.

“You’re learning painting from Count Eugene Lamour.”

The basic art teacher who had been teaching me since yesterday made a disapproving face when that name came up. Since art came up in conversation, I had casually mentioned that today’s painting class ended without feedback. The teacher pursed his lips and continued.

“That’s how he usually is. He extremely dislikes evaluating results, whether his own work or others’. From a beginner’s perspective, there’s no opportunity for skill improvement. As a teacher, it’s a painter’s role to directly tell you what’s wrong and what needs improvement, but he doesn’t do that…”

The teacher briefly lifted my hand drawing circles from the paper to relax the tension and said.

“In a way, it’s irresponsible.”

“No, well. It was fine. That’s probably his personality too.”

“You’re being generous in your judgment.”

He said that and took out a business card from his pocket to hand to me.

“I can evaluate for you too. If you need more feedback, bring your paintings to the art club I run. It’s a class for nobles and wealthy commoners, and we have critique sessions.”

They do critiques even though it’s not writing. Do they go that far? I shook my head and answered.

“I’m not sure. I don’t have that level of skill right now.”

“We proceed without revealing identities, so please come comfortably.”

After dealing with a blunt person, encountering a kind person feels refreshing. It even feels unusual to the point of being strange. I glanced at the clock and drew circles again.

When I finished the lesson and returned to Leo’s room, Narke was there. As soon as Narke saw me, he smiled brightly and led me to the Prince’s Palace garden. Throughout our walk in the garden, I quietly listened to Narke humming, then asked quietly after sitting at the table.

“Narke. Sorry, but let me ask one favor. Is something like that going to happen to me?”

“Hm? I don’t feel that way right now. Why?”

“There are people I met yesterday and today, and something’s bothering me about them.”

“It should be fine, right? Because you won’t be here.”

“What are you talking about? I have class tomorrow.”

“Hahaha~”

“…?”

I realized Narke had something he hadn’t told me yet and narrowed my eyes. He said while rummaging through his bag.

“Ainsiedel is watching us. Really.”

He handed me a cylindrical pen case. I took it and examined it while asking.

“What is this?”

“I thought you might have the remaining one. It arrived at Trier Cathedral addressed to me. So I came straight here as soon as I received it.”

Ainsiedel sent this? ‘The remaining one’? Did he figure that out through insight too?

Trier Cathedral, Narke. Of all people, Narke. A cylindrical case…

Then the unfinished conversation with Ainsiedel came to mind.

‘The Papal States’ French spy.’

“That’s right.”

Narke answered briefly while looking into my eyes. He must have already intuited what Ainsiedel was trying to scheme after seeing this case. At that moment, a white dove flew in the sky, circling around. Before I could be flustered by seeing it, Narke reached out his hand. The dove perched on Narke’s arm. Narke untied the long note tied to the dove’s leg, handed it to me, and muttered.

“As expected, this is meant to be given to you. We need to do this together.”

“….”

The note had incomprehensible alphabets written in a jumbled mess. A case and a note. The moment I saw these two items together, something flashed through my mind. I wrapped the note around the cylindrical case and slowly rotated the cylinder.

Among the countless alphabet combinations that made no sense, one line appeared that formed complete words.

[SAINT MARK]

“Saint Marco.”

I muttered. What Ainsiedel had sent us was a scytale cipher, a code solved by wrapping a string around a cylinder. The problem was that this ‘Saint Marco’ was also a code.

Narke spoke with a face full of excitement.

“Right. There’s a Papacy spy in ‘Saint Marco’. The two of us need to chase after this person.”

“Hmm….”

Good. He’s quite confident about it. If it were another friend, I would have asked what he was talking about, but if Narke says this, there’s a high possibility he’s right. I unwrapped the note, put it in my pocket, returned the case to Narke, and asked.

“So, how are we going to chase after them?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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